


Qinderella

by DoraTLG



Series: Christmas gifts 2014 [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondlock, Cinderella AU, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoraTLG/pseuds/DoraTLG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Bondlock Cinderella AU, I don't care if it's fluffy, angsty, pure crack, modern AU, actual fairytale AU, as long as it has bamf!Cinderella!Q who don't-need-no-rescuing-thanks, Prince-not-so-charming!Bond and evil(notreally)-stepbrothers!Mycroft and Sherlock. Bonus points if you can fit either Lestrade or Mallory as fairy godmother to Q. I really need this, thanks!! :'D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Qinderella

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for Q not being that bamf! Again, my sickness.
> 
> Merry Christmas, Elisabeth!

„Quartermaster! Quartermaster!“

Q raised his head from the papers. The mocking voices of his two brothers echoed the halls of their huge house before they reached his doors. He had the smallest room, because his mother hated him – he was a bastard, the youngest child, conceived with a servant, and his father's wife never bit through the embarrassment. Now, his father was in a war and Q had no way of stopping his family's revenge.

“What do you want?” he asked when Sherlock and Mycroft sat on his table – and on his papers. The nickname Quartermaster was actually his mother's surname, as ridiculous as it was, his first name was Sidney. Only his father called him that, and he was away from home most of his childhood. And he quite liked the name Q. At least he wasn't called after a bloody city.

“We've been wondering,” Mycroft stretched his long legs along Q's chair. “How long is that homework going to take? Sherlock here wants to pass his class. I hope you understand that.”

Freaking Mycroft, always speaking like a politician on vacation. Q hated every word that came out of that cropped mouth. He handed him the paper he's been working on when they came.

“You know, if you were stupid, I'd understand,” he said bitterly. “But Sherlock could get A without opening the book. Any of us could.”

“Oh, no, little brother,” Sherlock leaned to him. “I don't think you could. But it's always nice to see you have ambition.”

“Then WHY do I have to do your stuff?!” Q asked, angry.

“Because I had no time,” Sherlock leaned back against the wall. “We've been shopping with mum. Going on a boring party this evening. You should come, your awkwardness is always funny.”

“You know he can't,” Mycroft said with a little evil smile. “Mum won't let him. Only we get to see the most brilliant minds in this country, and talk to them about our future…”

Q's jaw fell. The party he's been dreaming of was TODAY? And he was not even considered to go. His life was a fucking misery.

“See? That's why you don't get to go,” Mycroft teased. “You can't even remember what date it is. Good luck being stuck in here while we live our dreams.”

Q hated them both. There was a time when they were friends, but their mother turned them against him, and of course, schoolmates finished the job. Now Mycroft was out of school, but Sherlock was still in his last year and Q a year under him, and that made it even worse – Sherlock believed he was closer to Mycroft's situation of an independent young man with a great career under his nose, and that Q was just a stupid child with no future. And Q was starting to believe that as well.

They left his room laughing. He went to his mother to plead, but he had no hope to actually persuade her. His mother was a cold bitch.

 

They left at seven, all but his mother dressed in tuxedos and shiny shoes, and Q stayed in his room with a book of astrophysics. He liked reading about things he wasn't professionally interested in, just for the fun of it. It was very pleasant, having to actually think harder to understand the subject he had no idea about.

He spent about hour like this, trying not to think of all the opportunities that were presented to his brothers in this moment, but it was too hard. His heart physically ached. So when he heard noises from the hall, he didn't even startle. He got up, took an old bat he never used for its intention, and opened his doors. The noise was coming from the front hall and he slowly walked the aisle and reached the stairs. Under them a man was shedding his rain coat and closing a dripping wet umbrella.

“Uncle Greg?” Q asked, surprised. Gregory Lestrade looked up at him and smiled.

“Hello, Sidney. Is your mother or brothers home?”

Q shook his head. Uncle Greg was his father's brother and he was his most beloved part of this family. “They went to a party,” he said and tried to sound nonchalant.

“Great,” Uncle Greg smiled and opened his bag. “I have something for you. You want to go to a party?”

Q put the bat down and walked down the stairs, hitting a light switch on his way. The hall filled with bright light and he could see what Uncle Greg pulled from his bag. It was a folded black suit.

“Vesper told me her brilliant plan to let you rot in here and you know what? Fuck her. You deserve a chance with the big fish. I'm not that into this stuff, but I get you are as clever as your brothers, If not more. Why don't you get dressed and go? I called you a cab, it will be here any minute.”

Q just incredulously stared at his uncle, with the tux in his extended hands. Then he took it from him and hugged him tight.

“Thank you, Uncle Greg,” he almost sobbed from happiness.

“There, there,” Greg petted his back clumsily. “Now run, you don't want to miss all the fun. But best to be here by midnight, OK? Vesper will sack me if she finds out.”

 

 

The cab took him to a large Victorian building in South Kensington. Q got out and nervously straightened his tie bow. He could see people inside the house, shadows moving in the dim light, and they were scaring him. He should just turn and head back home, but how could he look Uncle Greg in the eyes after what he did for him? And yes, there is his family somewhere in that house, but he could be careful. His glasses were still quite useful.

He walked to the front door and knocked with a big knocker.

 

 

James Bond was bored. This party was a terrible waste of time. His parents lived in an old world, where parties were important for business, where the most powerful people made their deals with those they held dear, but this was the twentieth century. He could find better partners any day at the high street.

But Olivia and Gareth were still his steel strong parents and he wasn't an absolute owner of the company, so he agreed with this masquerade.

Right not he was being introduced to a family of three – a mother and two sons. James noted that the younger would be cute if he weren't such a cocky, spoiled baby. He was absolutely sure he was the most brilliant person in this room, aside from his brother who he obviously adored.

He excused himself from the conversation as soon as he made sure this young gentleman was not reacting to his subtle flirtation and moved through the room. They had to open four rooms for this gathering, and he was still feeling squeezed by people. He liked his freedom and this situation was too forced for his liking.

He found him in the living room. Looking around himself, completely lost, probably considering running away. James immediately liked him.

He walked over to him and on his way grabbed a glass of champagne from nearby waiter.

“You alright?” he asked when he reached the boy and handed him the glass. He accepted, bewildered.

“I… yes,” he said and took a sip. James had to smile.

“Let me guess. You are a son of someone who dragged you here and want to leave as soon as possible.”

The boy shook his head.

“Not really. I… I came alone. And I think it was a mistake.”

“So, if you came alone, does that mean you are looking for something?”

The boy looked at him uncertainly.

“You know what, why don't you come with me somewhere with less noise and tell me?”

James half expected him to decline, but the boy nodded after just a moment's hesitation. James lead him to his office, a quite big room with cabinets of files and shelves filled with books, and one big table covered in papers. 

“So,” James closed the door behind them and turned on the boy. “Let's start with your name.”

“Ehm… Q.”

“Q?”

“Well, it's Sidney Quartermaster, actually, but everyone calls me Q.”

“Alright, Q,” James lead him deeper to the room, towards the table. “I am James Bond. People normally call me James, but feel free to call me B.”

Q laughed lightly and cast his gaze down. James was charmed with his shyness.

“My family is here,” Q said when James sat on the table and he stood in front of him. “Holmes family.”

“Holmes?” James asked, curious. “Those black haired once? Yes, you look like them – not the older one, he looks like his mother, but the younger one. I didn't like them. I get the impression you don't, either.”

“They don't know I am here,” Q admitted and his cheeks burned red. “They left without me. My uncle made me come here… to have the same opportunities as they have. But I think I'm not in the right place.”

James cocked his head to a side and studied Q again. This young man was probably the only person in this house that didn’t crave success and health beyond grave.

“So I take it you are smart?” he asked. Q shrugged.

“Yes.”

“What do you specialize in?”

“Computer science. Specifically programming language theory, structural operational semantics.”

James leaned back on his elbows and looked Q over for the hundredth time that night.

“How old are you?” he asked, intrigued.

“Nineteen,” Q said.

James leaned forward now, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Tell me more about your studies.”

So Q talked. When James showed interest, his eyes lit up with passion and he got restless, gesturing and speaking up more than James would believe he could.

“Wait,” James laughed when Q almost spilled everything from the glass he was still holding out of politeness. He took the glass from Q's hand and set it on the table. 

“I like your passion,” James said and slid from the table to be closer to the boy. He started to play with Q's bow tie, untying it and sliding it from under his collar. He touched his chin and Q's expression went to slightly confused, and slightly waiting. James would think the boy was never intimate with anyone, that less with a man, but he already surprised him once, so who knew? He leaned closer to him, watching his reactions. Q's confusion disappeared to be replaced by hesitation, and James helped him decide by kissing him.

Q was inexperienced. That made things to James' libido. His lips were soft and when James slid his tongue into Q's mouth and met his, he was in seventh heaven. He felt so powerful when he realised that he could be the first man ever to kiss this marvel, and he felt filthy. James Bond enjoyed feeling filthy. He was corrupting a young boy. That was always a good thing to do.

When they parted, Q looked like he was still lost in James. Then he opened his eyes and his gaze wandered to a clock on the wall. He suddenly startled, stepping away from James.

“I'm sorry, I have to go!” he said hurriedly. “I have to be home before midnight or they find out. I…” he looked at baffled James. “Thank you,” he said and then kissed him again before heading to the door.

“But you didn't even meet anyone important,” James said, amused. Q turned with a hand on the door knob.

“That wouldn't be this much fun,” he said and smiled. Then he leaved and James had to laugh.

 

 

When Q stepped through the threshold, Uncle Greg was already waiting for him in the hall with an expectation on his face and raised eyebrows. 

“So, how was it?” he asked. Q widely smiled.

“It was great.”

Greg's eyebrows shot even higher.

“Where is your bow tie?” he asked. Q startled and reached for his throat, petting the area where his bow tie should be.

“Oh, god, I'm so sorry…” he turned his head to the door, thinking about James untying the peace of clothing, but Uncle Greg just waved his hand.

“Nah, let it go. I'm glad you had fun. Now get up and act like you've been asleep this whole time. I'll see you in a few days. Take care of the tux.”

He left shortly after, gathering his things, and Q went to his room. He undressed and heard his family open the front door around one, when he was lying in the bed, definitely not sleeping.

It was just the morning after that Sherlock came to his room, looking all smug, and told him that he spoke to Mister Bond and that he really thinks Mister Bond liked him and…

“Bond?!” Q sat up on his bed.

“Yes,” Sherlock said, annoyed that he's being interrupted. “Bond. James Bond, the director of MI Computers.”

Q's heart missed a beat.

“He is the director?” he asked weakly. Sherlock looked bored.

“Yes, of course he is the owner. Where do you live? So, anyway…”

Q didn't pay attention to one word his brother said after that. He talked to the head of MI Computers. He KISSED the head of MI computers. How the FUCK did that even happen?

 

 

James thought it was just a boy with a nice smile and bright mind, just a distraction for one evening.

He was proven wrong after a week of constant thinking about him.

He became obsessed. Suddenly no one was good enough. Q was in his thoughts every minute of every day and wouldn't leave. So James started looking for him.

He had the bow tie and a list of guests. Holmes. He didn't know where they lived, so he asked his parents. None of them knew them, but they knew someone who might know. So James visited Mister Tanner, family Adler, Mister and Mister Moriarty, who seemed too welcoming for James' current situation, and finally, family Lynd, who pointed him in the direction of their daughter's house.

He knocked with the lion's head knocker and waited. The door opened and a middle aged maid walked him into the sitting room. He waited about a minute, seated on a hideous brown sofa that was light when he brushed his hand right and dark when left. Then the maid and a woman in her forties walked in, long brown hair made into a sophisticated bun, clothes formal even in her own home. He stood up and extended his hand. He didn't kiss her hand when she offered it, just squeezed it. She looked slightly offended, but clearly got over it for the sake of his importance.

“Mister Bond, am I right?” she asked and he nodded. Two young men stepped into the room and James recognized them as those spoiled bastards from the party. 

“I take it you remember my sons,” Vesper Lynd, now Holmes, pointed at them. “Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes.”

“Eeeh, yes,” he nodded to them. “But there is actually someone else I came to see. I believe his name is Q?”

Their faces changed in a second. Surprise, confusion, slight anger.

“Q?” Vesper asked. Boys' expressions puffed out like balloons.

“Yes,” he answered politely, hiding his all eating grin. “Sidney, if I remember correctly. Sidney Quartermaster?”

He almost laughed out loud on their reactions. Vesper legitimately looked like she ate something expired a month ago.

“Of course,” she said. “Mrs Hudson, could you please call Q down?”

When the maid left, Vesper looked at James again.

“Can I ask how you know Q?” she asked.

“But of course you can. We met on a party. We talked and I found out he is a genius.”

Vesper looked like someone punched her.

Q followed Mrs Hudson down the stairs and into the sitting room, where guests usually waited for invitation to the house. He couldn't figure out who would require his presence. No one ever visited him.

When he walked into the room, his heart stopped. James was there. James Bloody Bond, with his beautiful smirk and blue eyes, dressed casually in high waist trousers that accented his arse, and a white shirt that made his muscles even more obvious. Q just stared, suddenly realizing he was in a very old pair of trousers and his favourite sweater with a hole on his elbow.

“Hello, Q,” James said and Q's knees went weak.

“Eh… James,” it was more of a question. He walked closer to him, still leaving a few feet gape between them. James took something out of his pocket and raised it into air, revealing an untied bow tie hanging from his fingers.

“I believe this is yours?” he asked and Q felt his cheeks burning. He nodded, not daring to look at his stepmother. He was so dead.

“Well I am really glad I found you,” James said. “Because I have a job offer for you. What would you say to a steady place in a team of computer scientists, with a good salary and an office flat?”

Q opened his eyes and mouth in surprise. He could sense his family did the same.

“I have one condition, though,” James said. “You will leave this house and stop letting people step over you.”

Q was staring. He couldn't believe what this man was proposing to him. He was giving him a new life, just so, with a wave of his hand and the bow tie, and Q never wanted anything more. But it was too beautiful to be true.

“Accept, you idiot!” Mycroft's voice reached his ears and he took half a second to decide.

He turned to his brother.

“I have higher IQ than you, Mycroft, so shut the fuck up.”

Then he looked at James who looked pleased.

“I guess that answers your question,” he said. James smiled, walked over to him, threw the bow tie around his neck and, pulling him closer, kissed him.

From that moment on Q didn't care what his family thought of him. Yes, he was kissing a man in the sitting room. But there was no way anyone could ever tell him this was wrong. And he didn't have to stay here and listen to their judgemental bullshit. He could leave with James. He WILL leave with James.

In half an hour, when he had all his important books and something to wear packed, they left. He saw his family again, many times, but he wasn't lower than them anymore. And although the name Holmes became famous, he was happy in his own little world, working on what he loved and living with the man he loved. Because yes, they moved in together. They had a beautiful life together. And Uncle Greg came visit every month.


End file.
